


Lapse

by humanveil



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, POV Second Person, Post-Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: You wait, worrying that she won't come.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ahh a lot of this is taken from a fic i wrote for barba/carisi. a friend asked for the same thing for bensler so i am repurposing it. i changed a bit though, but anyway. enjoy!

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

Your gaze trails to where the clock sits, the noise far too loud for your liking. It clicks with each passing second, a subtle reminder that the door is yet to open, your phone is yet to chime.

It’s as if it’s mocking you. You’ve never liked being mocked.

Still, you refrain from pulling it from the wall, from smashing it into tiny pieces. You can wait. For her, you can keep calm.

At least, you hope you can.

Your gaze moves back to the door, eyes focused, intense, as you watch the handle, anticipating any sign of life, of it moving, of it opening.

You swear this used to be easier.

You lose your sense of time, each moment passing with a tick you can’t keep track off. Desperation coils within you, anxiety causing your foot to bounce, your palms to sweat. You should have heard something by now.

You don’t want to think about what _not_ hearing something means.

More time passes, ten minutes, an hour, it’s all the same at this point. Another second with no word is too much.

You shouldn’t have let her go. It was too dangerous. Stupid.  _Stupid_.

You’re about to give up, give in, and break the clock, break everything you can get your hands on. About to pick up your phone and call someone, anyone, who might know something. About to put your fist through the closest solid wall, hoping it’ll release the tension from your body.

And then, the door opens.

You jump up, a relieved sigh catching in your throat as you finally lay your eyes on her. There’s blood on her jacket, crimson specks splattered on her face, but she looks okay. Safe.

 _Not dead_.

She grabs you, pulling your bodies together in a bone crushing hug before pressing her lips to your cheek, your jaw, your lips. Your eyes close, your fingers clinging to the fabric of her clothes, but it’s still not enough. You don’t know if anything will ever be enough.

She tries to shush you, to calm you down, but you just cling harder, incomprehensible words falling from your lips.

“I thought…” you start, but the words catch in your throat. “You didn’t—”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she replies, burying her face in the crook of your neck. “My phone died. I... I’m fine. I promise.”

You don’t reply; don’t know how. You just press your face to her hair, breath in the familiar scent, and breathe.

Here, wrapped in her embrace, you finally start to calm down.


End file.
